One Night Only
by lynxzpanther
Summary: What happens when a job goes wrong and the target gets a glimpse of Arthur? Nothing good...right? A/E


_I've been sitting on this fic for a few months, so it's been edited and re-edited to my heart's (almost) content. ^.^ Unbeta'd, though, so all remaining mistakes are my fault. =) Please tell me what you think? _

_Dislciamer: I don't own them, nor do I own the brilliant song I stole my title and inspiration from. Or John Barrowman, who got me obsessed with the subsequent song. =) If you haven't heard his singing, it's amazing. _

* * *

><p><strong>One Night Only<strong>

Eames and Arthur liked to flirt. Well, Eames liked to flirt with Arthur, loved seeing the myriad of expressions his casual comments invoked. More than anything Eames loved to make Arthur smile; unfortunately, those moments were few and far in between. The point man held on to his collected and professional stick-up-his-arse persona as if his life depended on it.

Eames wasn't sure how Arthur felt about him, but that was okay. Their world was full of madness, ever changing chaos, and this routine—in which Eames chased and Arthur calmly declined all of his advances—was their one constant. It was an anchor of sorts, like their totems.

It made sense, then, that their routine would fall apart when their world came crashing down around them.

Without Cobb, jobs just weren't the same; they were never finished as entirely or efficiently. It wasn't that they were incompetent, because Arthur was one of the best point men in the business and rarely ever missed important information. It wasn't lack of versatility or imagination, because Eames had those things in excess, more than enough for himself and then some to spare. Ariadne was just as good of an architect as Cobb had ever been, perhaps even better now that she had some experience. It wasn't even that their carefully constructed plans weren't as good, because Arthur and Eames were opposite kinds of brilliant. They argued almost incessantly on the job, but with their equally incessant stream of ideas they inevitably found the perfect combination that made up their next-to infallible plans. With them, it was like building the Titanic; finding the combination that _should _be unsinkable, though there was always that margin of error.

It was the margin of error that started to become a problem when they lost Cobb. Dom had what Arthur affectionately called "the crazy gene," something that made him equal parts intimidating and useful. When the shit hit the fan—as it almost always did, no matter the quality of the planning—Cobb was the one who salvaged the job, who found a way around the new and unanticipated obstacles now in their path. Cobb could fix even the most broken of situations, and that kind of talent just couldn't be replaced.

So, it was really only a matter of time before they found themselves in _way _over their heads with no way out.

The job had been simple—or so they'd thought. Maybe it would have seemed harder, maybe they would have been more perceptive of the risks, but the inception job had ruined their idea of _complicated _or _difficult _forever. When you've done the impossible, nothing else ever quite measures up. This job was no exception to that rule.

They had been hired to (supposedly: one never knew if the employers were telling the _truth_) prevent a small-scale but potentially bloody war from breaking out between two small nations. By steal the secrets to one battle strategy, their employers would be hopefully able to keep things from getting out of hand. In hindsight, it probably would have been smart to assume that the minds they were infiltrating would be highly militarized, training or no. Those kinds of consciousness were just bloody _animalistic _in the way they attacked and annihilated. No training had shown up in Arthur's immaculate research, though, and they had all assumed that they would be relatively safe from the projections for the window of time they needed to complete the job. They were wrong.

The second they landed in the dreamscape they had been set upon by projections, sedative obviously not _calming _the man's mind in the slightest. It must have been highly paranoid and attuned to sense invaders, because viciously armed projections were _all over them. _They were bludgeoned, burned, decapitated, and sliced into ribbons. One by one each member of the team awoke gasping and tried to escape, but it was no use. The man himself awoke as they were clearing out. He'd seen Arthur's face.

The job of a Point Man is to protect his team. Even in failure, even when faced with death (or worse, but Eames didn't like to think about those _worse _things), Arthur put his team first. They split at the airport: Ariadne and Yusef, the most innocent and least likely to be tracked, flew to New York. From there Yusef would head to Northern Europe and Ariadne would take refuge in LA with Cobb. Arthur knew that, in circumstances like these, he could be trusted to look after her. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, but as the youngest and sweetest they had all formed a slight older brother complex for her.

Eames and Arthur both went south, landing in Rio. They stayed the night at a hotel, planning on going opposite directions in the morning. Eames was headed for Beijing, Arthur for Australia. All tails were likely to follow one or the other of them; neither really hoped to survive. The longer he stayed with Arthur, the more danger he was in, but Eames found himself reluctant to leave.

He liked the point man, after all, and he'd long ago admitted it to himself. But when he continued his casual flirting that night as they checked into a hotel (the same room, to watch each other's backs) it was more for the comfort of something familiar than because he expected to get anything out of it.

He was surprised when Arthur responded by kissing him as soon as the door to their room was shut, thoroughly and passionately, holding nothing back. With each kiss, each desperate meeting of their lips, Eames felt himself falling.

Sex with Arthur was different than with anyone else. They went slow, possibly slower than Eames had ever gone with anyone, savoring each and every moment. He was fairly sure that he managed to explore every inch of Arthur's body, and he had a feeling Arthur had managed to do the same with him. When their control finally snapped and they went at it in earnest, their passion drove them to the edge quickly. He kissed Arthur as he came and he knew, in that moment, he was lost.

He'd fallen, fast and hard, and he was inexorably in love.

For hours they talked about everything and yet nothing at all, voicing every thought that came to mind. They were both painfully aware that this was the last time they would ever see each other, but the thought was unimaginable, too unreal for either man to really grasp. They were left feelingly simply lonely inside and somehow still more complete with each other than either had ever been on his own. They spoke of things of little importance, and neither of them tried to bring up things that should have mattered. Eames didn't mention how he felt; their situation was complicated enough without him adding fuel to the burning mess that had been their lives.

Around two am Arthur drifted to sleep, snuggling closer into Eames' arms unintentionally, seeking warmth and probably comfort there. Eames knew he should sleep, but he was loathe to waste any of the dwindling time he had left. He watched Arthur for hours as he slept, trying desperately to memorize everything about the man that he could. If he had to live in a world without Arthur in it, Eames would make sure that he never forgot Arthur. Someone as amazing as his point man deserved to be remembered.

It should have been disturbing that Eames was truly hoping they would chase him instead of Arthur, kill him and let Arthur live, but he had heard that love made people do crazy things. If the only thing he could give Arthur was his life, he'd give it without a thought.

The minutes flew by and far too soon it was time for Eames to leave. He cursed international flights and the time it took to get through airport security. It seemed impossible that he had to worry about such normal, mundane things as passport checks when he could be dead in hours, but the world always carried on.

A few more minutes ticked by, Eames still watching Arthur sleep in his arms, ignoring the logical voice in his head that pointed out that he _needed _to leave. If he stayed, they would surely both die, wouldn't they?

In the end, Eames didn't wake Arthur up to say goodbye. There were a million things that Eames could say, but he knew that none of them would make any difference. He was pretty sure he could love Arthur forever, but neither of them had the time. Saying goodbye would just make everything twice as painful, like adding salt to a wound. He hastily redressed and grabbed the duffel that still sat next to the door.

Eames couldn't help but glance back and it proved to be his undoing. Arthur was sitting up, looking sinfully adorable with his tousled hair and sleepy brown eyes. Maybe the million things Eames could have said really wouldn't have made a difference. In the end, it only took Arthur one word: "Stay."

In moments Eames had dropped his bag and was back at the man's side, kissing him and trying to pour every confused feeling into that one small gesture. Even if they were gone in a day, a week, or an hour, it would be worth it, because this was the happiest moment of Eames' life.

* * *

><p><em>So... what'd you think? Reviews are love! <em>


End file.
